


seas between us broad have roared

by NoShipsLikePartnerships



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, New Year's Eve, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, even if it's a couple of days late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 16:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoShipsLikePartnerships/pseuds/NoShipsLikePartnerships
Summary: Midnight is fast approaching, and the only thing missing is the object of his affection.About halfway through the night, Hermann had gone to get some more bottles from their private stash in the lab (real German beers, the good stuff, which Newt’s uncle had brought with him the last time he’d visited), but he’s hasn’t come back yet. Looking down at his watch, Newt sees that it’s been over an hour and, seriously, what the hell?He quickly excuses himself from the conversation he’d been having with a couple of  J-Tech officers, and goes in search of his lab partner.(Or, Newt finds Hermann drinking alone in the lab on New Year's Eve)





	seas between us broad have roared

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is a bit late for a New Year's fic, but to be fair, I only had the idea for it during New Year's. 24 hours is still a pretty quick turnaround for me, though I'd hoped to get it posted while it was still Jan.1, ah well (that being said, I hope it doesn't feel too rushed). The title is a lyric from "Auld Lang Syne"
> 
> This was partly inspired by [this post](https://perlooooo.tumblr.com/post/111736972229/drunk) which I saw on tumblr recently. My kanji-reading is a bit rusty, but I'm guessing the dialogue is probably pretty different from what I ended up writing (if anyone is able to translate, I'd love to know what it says)

 It’s New Year’s Eve, 2024, and so far, Newt is disappointed.

The annual party’s a bit tamer than usual—with all of the shutdowns happening lately, they’re the last Shatterdome standing, and it’s just a matter of time before their funding runs out. That, and the fact that the next kaiju attack is right around the corner, casts a bit of a somber mood over the festivities.

Newt gets it. He does. These are not great times. Hell, these are very possibly the end times. It isn’t going to stop him from getting wasted, though. If this is all the time they have left, he plans to make the most of every second.

Tonight... tonight is the night that he finally goes for it. He’s going to tell Hermann how he feels about him. Or show him, at least (the talking part can come later).

These feelings have been bubbling inside of him, just below the surface, for years, but Newt has yet to act on them. The past four years, he’d always found some excuse not to. He had been so afraid of fucking things up between them, afraid that it would be like 2017 all over again. Newt doesn’t think that he could handle it, if things were to go down that way.

If this is really it, though, if this is his last chance? Well. No more excuses, then.

Midnight is fast approaching, and the only thing missing is the object of his affection.

About halfway through the night, Hermann had gone to get some more bottles from their private stash in the lab (real German beers, the good stuff, which Newt’s uncle had brought with him the last time he’d visited), but he’s hasn’t come back yet. Looking down at his watch, Newt sees that it’s been over an hour and, seriously, what the hell?

He quickly excuses himself from the conversation he’d been having with a couple ofJ-Tech officers, and goes in search of his lab partner.

Newt finds Hermann in the lab, along with the bottles. Or, more accurately, what’s left of them. There are three empty bottles lying on top of Hermann’s desk, and a fourth, still in progress, is clutched in his hand. He’s sitting on the floor, with his back against the desk, his face pale in the lamplight.

“Are you okay?” Newt crouches down in front of him. Hermann’s face is red, likely from the booze, but his eyes are red, too. Shit. Had he been crying? “Dude, what’s wrong?” Newt asks softly. Hermann doesn’t answer him, and instead raises the bottle to his lips.

Newt’s a bit tipsy himself, which is maybe not great but, in his defense, he hadn’t expected to have to take care of anyone tonight—it’s New Year’s Eve, and he’d just been trying to have a good time, so this is hardly his fault. He still has enough good sense left to know that letting Hermann have any more is probably not the best idea. 

“Yeah, no,” Newt says, grabbing the bottle and taking it away from him. “You are officially cut off.” Hermann glares at him, though there isn’t much force behind it. Newt sighs. “Come on, talk to me, man. What’s going on?”

That’s when he notices the equations on the blackboard. He remembers that Hermann had been stuck on a particular problem earlier that day, and must have come back to work on it. Walking over to stand before the board, Newt takes a closer look and, sure enough, there’s a lot more writing than there was before. Whatever it is, it looks like Hermann’s solved it. Newt shakes his head. Leave it to Hermann to have his ‘eureka’ moment in the middle of what was _supposed_ to be a celebration.

And if he’s solved it, then he _should_ be celebrating, right?

“It’s the kaiju,” Hermann says, his words slurring a little as he speaks. “They’re coming.”

“I know,” Newt says. The attack on Sydney had happened just a few hours ago, which had not been the best end to the year for their friends Down Under. It’s only a few days until the next one, but they’ll be ready for it, like they always are. “There’s always one coming.”

“Two.”

Newt freezes. “What?” 

“There will be two next time.”

“Hermann, there’s never been two, why would there be—”

“And then three,” Hermann continues, his voice unsteady, “and then...” 

“What are you talking about?” Newt asks. “Where are you even getting this from?” Hermann isn’t making any sense. Maybe he’s had more to drink than Newt initially thought. Hermann waves at the numbers on the blackboard in response, and Newt turns to look at them more closely, as if they’ll suddenly mean something to him. “Yeah, but we still have—”

“A week,” Hermann says miserably, “a week, at most, until a Double Event. And then even less time than that before we experience a Triple Event. Then they will be coming through every eight hours, and then every four minutes, until...” he makes a sound that Newt thinks is supposed to be some kind of an explosion, but just comes out as a puff of air.

“No, that’s...” Newt wants to say ‘impossible’ but Hermann’s predictions have been pretty spot-on up until now. They’re still just predictions, though, and even those can be wrong sometimes. It’s like weather forecasts, those are only right, like, what? Eighty percent of the time? He shakes his head. “There’s gotta be some kind of mistake.”

“I do not,” Hermann insists, “make mistakes.” This is a lie, and they both know it. They’ve both made mistakes, when they were tired, or over-stressed, or over-worked, or all of the above. It’s totally possible that’s what’s happened here.

But if it isn’t a mistake, if he _is_ right...

Eyes fixed on the blackboard, Newt takes a swig from the bottle that he’s still gripping in his hand, then moves to sit beside Hermann on the floor.

If he’s right, then they are well and truly fucked.

They really are facing the end times, aren’t they? Newt had joked about it before, but somehow, it hadn’t really hit him until just now. Forget New Year’s—if what Hermann is telling him is true,then they’re in the final countdown, to the end of the human race.

Newt finishes off the bottle, then places it up on the desk with the others. 

He can feel Hermann begin to shake next to him, and when Newt looks over, he sees that Hermann’s eyes are shining with unshed tears. It’s clear that he’s trying to keep them in, but as Hermann blinks, a few errant tears escape, slipping down his cheeks. Without thinking, Newt reaches over to brush them away, then puts his other arm around Hermann’s shoulders, and pulls him closer. Hermann’s head lands on Newt’s shoulder, his hair tickling Newt’s neck, as his body trembles against him.

“It’s okay,” Newt says, trying to keep his voice light, reassuring. “Tomorrow, you’ll go over the numbers again. Make sure. Who knows, maybe you missed something. I mean, it is, like, super late, I don’t know if you noticed that. Also, you’re kind of drunk, too. Not really the best time for math.”

The equations, and their implications, loom over them both, and Newt has to fight the impulse to jump up and erase them. It won’t solve anything and, if they’re right, then that will only set them back and make things worse.

Hermann grabs hold of Newt’s other hand, and presses it to his chest, right over his heart. He's stopped crying, but doesn’t say anything, just stares intently at Newt. Newt isn’t sure exactly what it's supposed to mean, but he doesn’t pull away. Hermann’s heartbeat is steady beneath Newt’s hand, and Newt can feel his own heart hammering, so loud that it threatens to drown out everything else. For a second, he’s worried that Hermann can hear it, too.

Newt has to fight another impulse, then, and resists the urge to kiss him—Hermann’s not even close to being sober, so that’s definitely out of the question.

This _really_ isn’t the way Newt had pictured this night going.

“Okay,” he says, breaking the spell, and hauling Hermann to his feet. Hermann sways for a moment and then leans heavily against him, arms wrapped tightly around Newt’s waist. “This party’s over, let’s get you to bed.” He searches for Hermann’s cane and finds it on the desk with the empty bottles, and grabs it with his free hand. When Newt tries to get Hermann to take it, though, Hermann refuses to let go of Newt. Not sure what else to do, Newt holds on to it, and holds on to Hermann, and manages to maneuver them out of the lab that way.

Thankfully, they don’t run into anybody as they head toward Hermann’s quarters—everyone else seems to still be partying—so Newt doesn’t have to try and explain this situation, which he’s guessing probably looks a bit odd.

Between Hermann, who’s still hanging on to him on one side, and Hermann’s cane in his other hand, it takes a bit of a balancing act before Newt finally gets the door open. Once they’re in the room, he kicks the door closed behind them, though maybe a bit too loudly—Hermann makes a startled sound as it shuts.

“Sorry,” Newt says, wincing.

He sets the cane aside, and helps Hermann onto the bed, pulling the covers over him. Hermann closes his eyes, and falls asleep almost immediately. He’s probably going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning, though. Newt makes sure that Hermann’s lying on his side, in case he has to throw up later, then grabs the garbage can from beside the desk and puts it next to the bed. 

Very briefly, Newt considers spending the night, just to keep an eye on him. However, given the state he’s in, there’s a high chance that Hermann isn’t going to remember much about this by the morning, and a one-hundred percent chance that he’ll be wondering what the hell Newt is doing in his room, so Newt decides against it. 

He gazes down at Hermann, who looks peaceful as he sleeps, his earlier worries forgotten for now. There’s still a chance that he was wrong, that they still have more time. Newt hopes that they’ll have more time. He hopes that they haven’t wasted it.

For years, there had literally been oceans between them, and sometimes it still feels that way. It’s been getting better, though. Newt thinks that it’s been getting better, anyway, and that it’s not just his own wishful thinking. There’s no guarantee that Hermann will feel the same way that Newt does, but it’s something that he needs to do. It’s something worth taking a chance on.

But not tonight. 

Newt doesn’t usually bother with New Year’s resolutions (they’re unrealistic, and nobody ever sticks to them for longer than a week), but he resolves to do that, at least. Before it’s too late.

There’s a noise from down the hall—cheering, shouting, singing—and Newt glances at the clock on the bedside table, which confirms that it’s midnight.

He can’t help himself. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Hermann’s temple. It’s not quite the New Year’s Eve kiss he had been hoping for, but there’s still no one else Newt would rather spend this moment with.

“Happy New Year, Hermann,” he whispers.

Hermann smiles, his eyes still closed. “Happy New Year, Newton,” he mumbles sleepily. Newt hadn’t been expecting a response, but his heart is full as he turns to leave the room. 

Yeah, he definitely thinks that this year will be better.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated :) You can also find me on tumblr @chalkstardust (formerly @thewintersoufflegirl)


End file.
